The Vampire & Her Witch

The dining room continued the same romantic themes as the sitting room had. Beeswax candles burned throughout the small, private space, leaving the edges and the corners of the room in deep shadow as they bathed the oval dining table in soft, golden light that gleamed off the polished wood of the table top.

Fine porcelain plates sat at the head of the table and immediately to the right side, making Owain’s intentions clear, even though propriety would have placed Jocelynn at the opposite end of the table.

”I stopped by the kitchens earlier and changed tonight’s menu,” Owain said, gesturing to the buffet along one wall, covered with dishes waiting under silver domes. His tone shifted to one of genuine concern, and his brows furrowed as he gave Jocelynn’s hand a squeeze he likely intended to be reassuring. ”I’ve noticed you haven’t been eating much since... since everything that happened. I thought lighter fare might be more appealing.”

”Here,” he said gently, reaching out with both hands to lightly touch the edges of her black lace veil. ”Allow me,” he said, gently lifting upward, revealing a face that had been artfully made up before tears left faint smudges at the corners of her slightly puffy eyes.

His fingers traced along the delicate curve of her jaw as he lifted the veil over her head, gently pulling her gaze upward to meet his eyes as he drank in her intoxicating beauty. Jocelynn had been many things to him over the past several months. Innocent. Sweet. Seductive. But it wasn’t until now that he’d ever felt like she was... fragile. Vulnerable. Struggling to withstand the cruelty of the world and looking at him with eyes that held a desperate need to be protected.

”Don’t worry,” Owain said as he gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. ”Now that we’re together again, I’ll take care of everything. Just leave it all to me, and you’ll never have to worry about anything again,” he promised, smiling with satisfaction as he watched her trembling with relief at his touch.

”The cook from the Gilded Horn still won’t accept my offer to serve as our next Master of Kitchens,” Owain said, turning the topic back toward their meal. ”But he’s been willing to help oversee things while we search for someone suitable. He designed this menu especially for you. Evidently, the recipes were a gift from a gifted cook who is familiar with both the Blackwell palette and the ingredients available in the March,” he boasted.

”Just take a seat, Lady Jocelynn,” Anne said quickly, stepping up to the buffet to begin removing the silver covers. ”We’ll serve you right up, and we’ll make sure that everything is suitable for you...” she promised, intending to say more, only to falter when she removed the cover of the first dish.

”Sweet Scales of the Sea,” the maidservant whispered, staring in shock at the dish before her. ”It, it can’t be...”

”Bring it over to the table,” Owain said with a wide smile on his lips as the servant stammered. ”I’m sure that Lady Jocelynn will be delighted by it,” he said, as if the dish had been his idea in the first place.

Sweet Scales of the Sea was a specialty dish found almost exclusively in the great halls of Blackwell County’s nobility. Traditionally, an entire fillet of fish, usually something rich like salmon, would be meticulously covered in thin slices of Blackwell pears, cut with a ring mold into perfect disks that were layered on the fish to give the appearance of scales. Then, the entire dish would be basted with thyme-infused butter while it roasted over the flames of the hearth.

The combination of rich, flaky fish, sweet, soft pears that had just started to curl up and brown at the edges, and the herbaceous butter, accompanied by a sauce of whipped cream, dill, and preserved lemons, made for a dish that was as much a visual spectacle as it was a sensational combination of flavors.

It was also one of Ashlynn’s favorite dishes, so much so that a young Ashlynn had offered to grow thyme and dill in her garden in case the kitchens ran out, so they could have it more often. But what under the light was the dish doing here?

”How...” Jocelynn started, only to find it difficult to speak around the lump in her throat. ”How did this cook come by these recipes?”

”I wouldn’t worry too deeply about it,” Owain said as he impatiently waved at the maidservant to serve a portion of the fish for both himself and Jocelynn. ”The owner of the Gilded Horn has a... talent, I suppose, for obtaining rare odds and ends. Evidently, he returned from a trading venture in Keating just last night and provided the recipes along with his blessing for his head cook to serve at the manor until after the coronation.”

”I see,” Jocelynn said, taking a delicate bite of the fish as she struggled to hold back tears. The fish was wrong, and so was the fruit... but they weren’t far off. The cook had used a local river trout instead of salmon, resulting in a flavor that was milder, but also suited Jocelynn’s recovering stomach better. The slices of fruit weren’t pears, either, much less Blackwell pears, but the crisp brightness of the apple slices paired well enough with the trout that she found herself barely needing any of the dill cream.

”You can bring the others,” Owain said, frowning at the serving women who Jocelynn insisted accompany them to serve their meal. ”And then you can withdraw so that Lady Jocelynn and I can speak of more... delicate matters,” he said in a tone that accepted no argument.

”Y-yes, my lord,” Anne stammered before turning back to the buffet and the other dishes there.

The next dish turned out to be a tossed salad of winter greens with candied walnuts, dried cherries, slices of fresh apple, and crumbles of goat cheese. It was followed by a light, semi-spicy carrot and leek soup. It wasn’t until the last dish was revealed, however, that anything produced a reaction like the first dish had.

”My lady,” Mary said with some difficulty as she carried the next dish over. ”It’s a Ship’s Bell Pudding,” she said as she set the dense, bell-shaped pudding in front of Jocelynn. The pudding was filled with dried fruits that had been soaked in strong wine, but the impressive part was that the cook had managed to get the dish to hold its shape while it steamed before placing it next to the hearth, where it had to be carefully rotated to crisp the outside without drying out the soft, decadent interior.

If Sweet Scales of the Sea was one of Ashlynn’s favorite dishes, then Ship’s Bell Pudding was one that Jocelynn insisted on having each year at her birthday celebration for the past four years, preferring it over the fanciful cakes that bakers made more to look impressive than to taste good.

”My lord,” Jocelynn said quietly as her seafoam eyes remained fixed on the pudding. ”Do you think... do you think I can speak to this cook? Or to the owner of the Gilded Horn who gave him these recipes?”

”I’m sure the cook will be very busy for the next few days, preparing for all of the smaller gatherings before the grand ceremony,” Owain said, annoyed that the cook seemed to be getting so much of her attention. ”But I can send a message to the man he works for. It may take some time,” he cautioned, thinking of how difficult it had been for his useless, and now missing, Steward, Hugo, to get a meeting with the infamous Black Merchant.

”But if it will put a smile on your face,” Owain said charmingly. ”Then I’ll make certain that he makes time for you. After all, who would dare to refuse an invitation from their Marquis?”